Purge: an Order 66 Story
by Humans.areweird
Summary: The order 66 and resulting Jedi Purge experience from the point of view of an unnamed Jedi, as she fights alongside her partner-in-crime, and the partner's former padawan. You can imagine they're your own OC's, or just sit back and imagine whoever you like.
1. Chapter 1

"Well, looks like we're here now," I said to him as we left the transport vehicle behind us.

"Right," he replied somewhat sombrely. The war was getting to him like it was the others.

"Hey, we'll be home soon," I reminded.

He sighed. "We've been gone almost six weeks now. You really think we're gonna make it back? We're expendable. I'm starting to think they're trying to get us killed off by now."

I punched him in the arm. "Lighten up." He punched me back. I hit him again. We both started laughing. We barely managed to pull ourselves together before the bombs dropped.

We dived for cover. I heard screaming somewhere. Thank god we weren't in a civilian-populated area. The buildings, once beautiful structures in all their glory, had long since collapsed under the constant bombardment of war. I assessed the new damage. Three of our soldiers dead. A few others still down that we're moving a bit. I assumed help had already been summoned and attempted to drag my cowering compatriot out from under his cover.

"Hey, it's over now. You can come out."

"It's not over. It'll never end."

"Yes it will. It's almost over. You know how I can tell?"

"How?"

"There was only one bomber this time. We're gonna make it. Just come out."

He crawled out from behind his rock. Not for the first time, I began to wonder if what I was telling him had even an element of truth to it. War had been raging for some three years at least. But... Yeah. It had to be ending. The one bomber thing wasn't a lie. I hugged him. No one was watching. It seemed like a reasonable thing to do. He was still shaking. He's not good with loud noises anymore. He took a minute to calm down, then detached himself from my grip and ran off to asses damage elsewhere. He's still good at that. When my device went off with our next lot of instructions, he took a few minutes to find. I eventually stumbled upon him trying to pick up a mangy looking tooka kitten in some rubble. It didn't look happy. He did catch it though. He's good with animals. After he had calmed it down, I had to prise him off it to get him to listen.

"Commanding officer issued orders. Sector B-12, sweep. We're gonna check for refugees and mines."

"Both? You'd think if there's refugees, they would've set off the mines already."

I rolled my eyes. Morbid humor was one way to cope. "Come on, we move out in five."

He watched his kitten run off into the rubble again and stood up. He took a few steps and leaned on the remains of what must've been a support structure.

"You still walk funny," I teased. I wasn't joking. He hadn't been quite the same since the plantation incident.

"Do not," he retorted.

"Do too."

"Doesn't mean I can't still beat you."

"You're on."

We took off running. In the moment, I almost forgot that we were at war. For a minute, all seemed peaceful.

I had no idea what was about to go down.


	2. Chapter 2

Minesweeping is boring. It always has been, it always will be. It's so painstakingly slow, yet so important. With one false move, you could set off a chain reaction that could claim the lives of everyone in the area. Of course, three hours in, we received notice that there were no mines in the area, that we had been fed false information by an enemy tactical droid. We decided to split off into groups and search for traces of enemy weaponry. We refilled our backpacks and vowed to return to base camp by sundown. I took my friend and set off eastward.

"See anything?" I asked

"We're both better suited to low light settings. If you can't see something, chances are I can't see it either."

"I didn't ask for a science lesson."

"That wasn't science, it was logic."

That made me punch him again. He went to return, then stopped. I looked at him a little worried.

"What?"

He pointed over my shoulder to a cylindrical object half buried in the remains of what looked like it used to be a warehouse. We moved to investigate. He shifted some of the debris away. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

"Are those...?"

"Defoliator shells?"

"Oh, poodoo."

As if making an attack on a peaceful world known for its libraries and medical facilities wasn't diabolical enough, our enemy dared bring such a terrible weapon to play. A weapon that could destroy organic life in a matter of moments and leave machines and mineral resources unharmed, the very pinnacle of greed and unethical treatment in warfare. Our investigation covered several more shells and a rather startled lizard that thankfully made a getaway before my friend could get sidetracked. He sighed.

"We have to blow these before the enemy can get their hands back on them"

"Do we have enough explosives?"

"I put six detonators between us and five shells. So yes."

"Thanks for the math lesson, genius."

"Anytime."

"Well, let's get started."

We set to work trying to manoeuvre the shells into a position that would cause minimal damage to the surroundings and conserve our explosives. We didn't get far before a voice behind us issued a warning.

"That's far enough. Hands where I can see them."

We turned around to be greeted by an armada of armour-clad droids. The new B-3 units, I noted. Not friendlies. We stood up and activated our lightsabers.

"Hey," he whispered, "you have four, right?"

"Detonators?" I whispered back, "yeah."

"Take mine, I'll cover you."

"Are you insane?" I hissed.

"Trust me," he said.

In moments like this one, we don't argue. We don't question logic. We just trust each other. It's what years of friendship have done to us. That's what we elected to do. He took up his defensive post. You'd never guess it just talking to him, but he's thoroughly mastered most forms of weaponry. In fact, he's one of the Jedi Temple's exotic weapons instructors. He teaches the younglings at the temple to defend themselves in most any way imaginable, and now, he chose to defend me as I positioned the explosives around the shells. He did it with Valor. With Honor. I completed my task and turned to tell him to run.

Instead of the cocky look I expected from him, I watched him take a blaster shot to the chest.


	3. Chapter 3

I barely had time to scream his name before the explosions started. First came the ones from my detonators. Everyone was thrown into the air, friend and foe alike. Then more. I realised that I hadn't taken his explosives in the end. He must have used them himself. Further explosions took out the enemy. As the dust began to settle, I scanned the area. Twisted, broken droids lay everywhere. It took me a minute to find him. He was lying motionless on the ground. I stumbled over to him. Turned him over. He was out cold. There was blood everywhere. His robes were soaked. I did what we had been trained to do and tried to keep pressure over the wound. I felt desperately for a pulse. I finally found one, weak and fading. In that moment, I didn't really care what else was going on. I couldn't tell you if I tried. I only wanted to keep him alive. Then his hand reached up and grasped mine. I didn't notice at first, it was so weak. I finally worked up the nerve to look him in the face. He shook his head slightly.

"Don't bother..." He whispered. I could barely hear him.

"Please don't go," I begged, "I need you. Please..." I choked up on tears. He kind of gave me a smile. It was the best he could do. In the moment, it was just enough to hold me together. Whatever happened next, he was ok with it. That was enough for me.

"Going home now," he coughed. I couldn't believe it. Here I was at the place I had dreaded since the war began. Yes, of course we had made jokes about outliving each other, but... Here we were, about to part ways for the rest of eternity. I couldn't stop what I did. Even if I could, I don't regret it. I would do it a thousand times over.

I wiped the blood away from his mouth and kissed him, for one last time.

Love is forbidden. We may not harbour feelings for each other. It only gets in the way of what is to come. When we face the eternal abyss, it clouds decisions, stops us from doing what must be done. Yet we chose to live with the risks. We kept the secret for years, never told a soul that our relationship was stronger than just the long-standing friendship from childhood. Of course, we had done this forbidden action many times, sometimes for cover during our intelligence gathering operations, and sometimes just because we felt like it. And in the moment of having to let go, I understood to the fullest the reason for such demand of lack of emotion that had been demanded from our sacred order. But... I was also glad I had ignored the code of conduct. I kissed him and he kissed me back. At least... For the first bit. After a few moments, I noticed that he had stopped. His eyes were closed. His breathing had stopped. I couldn't find a pulse. I broke down. I rested my head on his chest and cried my eyes out.

I hope he enjoyed it. I hope his last moments were peaceful. I hope he wasn't scared. I hope his last thought wasn't just a cloud of pain. I hope he enjoyed life. I hope he's happy where he is. I hope when I join him, he'll be happy to see me. But I guess I can't really know. I never will until it's my time to go home.

The patrols didn't come looking for us until after sundown. They found us there in the dark. They took him away. Brought me back to camp. I found the ship. Our ship. 'Joy Flyer,' we had called it. It had been like a mobile home to us ever since we got it — or, took it really. It had served as a base during military operations, a civilian cover on covert missions, and a home away from home in a time when home was far too far away to reach. I took a walk through its hallways, a walk I had taken many times. It wasn't big, but it had all it needed. Sleeping areas, a small kitchen, a common area and a washroom. I walked into the kitchenette, crawled into an empty cupboard and cried again. I knew my life would never be the same, and I knew what had to be done.

The next morning, I took our Joy Flyer out for a last ride. I left it at the orbital medical facility. They could surely put it to better use than I ever could. Maybe it could help end the war faster. After all, that's what he would've wanted. I hitched a ride back with the rest of the battalion. They could probably guess what happened.

The problem would be telling the others. He had friends. He had a former padawan, now a young knight, who could be halfway across the galaxy. He had several defence classes of younglings, The youngest of which was made of seven year olds. How do you explain to seven-year-olds that their teacher is never coming back for another lesson? Worse, how do you tell the class of fourteen-year-olds who completely understand and will bear the full emotional weight of it?


	4. Chapter 4

"...You awake?" I asked with a knock. I waited for her response.

"Come in," she said. I opened the door, took one look at her, and totally forgot the carefully rehearsed speech I had chosen to announce the news to her. I just stood staring, mouth searching for something to say, but only a pathetic silence escaping it. I looked to her face again. Her stunned expression told me she had already figured it out. I broke down. Again. I pulled her close as she lost it too. I could hardly blame her. He was the closest thing she had had to a father. Now he was gone.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." I sobbed. "It's my fault. I tried.."

"Was he happy?" She asked

"What?"

"When he went. Was he happy?"

"I... Think so. I hope so."

"That's all I needed to hear."

It took a few hours after that to calm down enough to talk more. We talked about us. About him. We eventually decided to talk to his classes together. It took a lot of explaining. There were questions. It took nearly two days to cover them all as they came for lessons. He had such a bigger impact than I thought. He was a father to so many that had none. We stopped for lunch in the facility cafeteria. They were serving some kind of meat loaf that day. It wasn't too horrible, maybe a touch dry, but by far not the worst food I had eaten. We ate in almost total silence

Little did we know that we were having the last safe meal of our lives

The doors flew open and in came a barrage of laser blasts. Shots ricocheted around the room. We flipped over our table for cover. A glance around showed the bodies of our comrades, who were eating with us mere moments ago. We retaliated with our lightsabers and held our position until there was no further opposition. As the smoke of battle cleared, we rose to survey our attackers.

"These men aren't our enemy..." I murmured, lost in thought.

"No, they're..."

Our own men

Former friends lay before us. Their past allegiance marked by their universal, white armour. I stared down at the betrayed friendships, the years of bonding, now at my feet with holes in their chests. I could only think of one option

"We're going. We're going now. I don't know what's happened, maybe some sort of rebellion. Whatever it is, there's no going back now. We have to leave. There will be no return."


	5. Chapter 5

A step into the hallway ensured that my nightmare was in fact a reality. The twisted bodies of my companions lay twisted throughout the once beautiful hallways. There were gunshot marks in the walls; the beautiful walls that had stood throughout my childhood, that had guided me to lessons and back home again. Another step made me realise that my life as I had known it was over. A blast whizzing over my shoulder brought me back from the moment of shock. I realised that I was not alone. More of my former brethren were still standing. Between my lone friendly counterpart and myself, their decisions were short-lived. Unfortunately, we had a plan in place for such events as apocalyptic rebellion. We made a beeline to our rooms, thankfully which were near each other.

"You have a bag packed, right?"

"I do. He always made me keep one"

"Get it. Get it now."

Most people would pack an emergency bag full of food or other survival items. Mine contained an array of memorabilia instead. The weapon belonging to a fallen friend. Not my special friend. I wished I had his, but it was yet to be given to me. My journal, documenting the twenty-something years of my existence, nestled next to my repair kit. Yes, there were provisions in there for several weeks also, but they held little in the way of significance for me. I snatched a final item from my desk: the picture of myself and my dear departed. I tossed it into my bag and closed it. I took one more glance around the room that I had grown to love in my time with it. I almost considered watering my plant one last time. But with short time and a heavy heart, I elected not to. I whispered my goodbyes to my sacred place and walked out to meet my single ally, only to be met with one in the armour of my now enemies.

He was dead before he ever knew what happened. The tips and tricks from my former best friend saw to that. I whispered a thank you to him as I grabbed the hand of my now only friend and took off

"Where are we going?" She asked

"Hangar bay," I replied in a flash. "We need out, we're getting out. And my guess is that the best way to do that is to take to the skies"

"I have my ship. Outfitted cargo freighter. Been working on it."

"Is it fast?"

"'Course it is. Fixed it myself. Also cloaks well. You?"

"I'm taking my fighter. I'll cover you. If we get separated, meet at the abandoned airfield."

"I'm out of options to argue, so alright"

We rounded the corner to the hangar and realised that our predicament was greater than we thought. Our ships were surrounded by the enemy. But also... Yes. There was hope yet. A pressurised steam canister. It was laying on the ground, right near the hangar bay centre. I signalled my plan to my compatriot and set it in motion.

Right on cue, she began a sprint to her ship. She was met by a chorus of shouting and gunfire. Even seeing her like that, running from the forces of the government itself, scared me. I realised how difficult the life of a fugitive would be. I snatched my eyes from the sight and began my own part of the plot. I took my own sprint; not to the ship, but to the canister. With a swift kick to the containment mechanism, a cloud of steam and noise rattled my head. I noted with glee the screaming soldiers, unable to see. I dived into my fighter and tossed my bag into the back. My beautiful ship, barely ten feet long, was to be my final coach to freedom. I sighed as I shoved my helmet onto my head, regretting the neon green and black paint job I had given my craft. Of course, it was not intended for camouflage. Before anyone could stop me, I raced to the sky. I was free. I would be safe, I was sure.

At least, if I could get past the inbound fighter bombers.


	6. Chapter 6

"You still holding up?" I yelled into my headset

"Barely," she replied, "I didn't finish adjusting the weapons systems. Shields are holding."

"Coming for ya!" I smiled as I flew my tiny fighter over her much larger ship. Even in the times of chaos, nothing can distract me from the onset of euphoria that comes from soaring thousands of feet above the ground. I pulled a barrel roll as I dive attacked the fighter bomber on her left flank. I screeched my joy as I saw it erupt in flames and fall from the sky.

"Yes! RT, I need you on..."

There was no RT. My best friend and wingman was dead. Gone forever. I flipped a few switches and bit my lip, determined not to cry.

"Shuttle A-6, I need you on my upside. I'm going for the deathspin manoeuvre."

"Is that really wise?" She responded, "I don't know how to cover you. The person who did that didn't—"

"The person who did that is gone, A-6, and I'll tell you that while he can never be replaced, someone else can do what he did on this occasion. Just keep doing what you're doing and cloak on my signal. Follow my orders and you'll be fine."

I didn't wait for her affirmative. I flipped myself over and gave the enemy the shot to my fighter's underbelly that they couldn't resist. They took it. I shut off the engines and deployed the smokescreen canisters as I began to fall. Of course, my ship was in perfect working order. I just needed it to look broken. The world swirled before me as I fell. Watching the whorl of color was rather calming, in a strange way. I glanced toward the flashing dial, the one telling me that I was falling too fast.

20,000 feet. Still have time.

19,000 feet. I reached into the back.

18,000 feet. I felt for my bag.

17,000 feet. "Shuttle A-6, divert all available power to your underbelly shields."

"What?"

"Just do it"

16,000 feet. I found the picture I was searching for. My last picture of myself with him. I held it to my chest as I re-engaged the engines and pulled up. I rocketed skyward.

"Shuttle A-6, engage cloaking mechanism"

I saw her ship flicker from visibility from the corner of my eye. From the other side, I noticed the enemy bombers on my tail. Coming closer. Opening up a barrage of gunfire. I continued the vertical climb, g-force crushing my body into the seat. I thanked the force for dampeners, or I would have been crushed flat in that moment. I locked my eyes back to where the freighter had been, calculating its current location. I watched my enemy building speed to catch me. I prayed that my calculations were right. Thankfully, I was ok this time. I whizzed past it's location, continuing vertically.

"Shuttle A-6, you may feel a slight bump."

I smiled as I heard the explosions behind me.

After listening to her stream of foul language relating to two fighters crashing into her hull being a little more than a "slight bump", we circled back around the facility to see the damage. The result was horrible. The building I had grown up in, learned so much in, even explored it's every nook and cranny of hidden passages, was engulfed in flames. I suppressed my tears as I turned the ship to fly away. The war was over, yes, but at what cost? We had lost, our ranks divided from the inside.

Is it really victory if you killed your every ally to get there?


	7. Chapter 7

We sat at the abandoned airfield, aircraft parked nearby. A fire lit between us. We grilled a few of the small creatures we caught around. They tasted alright. We ate in mostly silence, contemplating the events of the day. Contemplating our lives. Contemplating the uncertainty of our new lives as fugitives from justice. I missed my partner horribly. I missed everyone. I tried to make calls, to find anyone I could. I found none. Our only call inbound had been a coded retreat signal from the Jedi temple. Having seen the destruction that had taken place, we ignored the command to return, And only prayed that others were not foolish enough to try it.

Then I got the message

My communicator pulsed and glowed, bringing up an image of the sender. I grabbed it excitedly, eager for another survivor of the purge. Maybe someone who had answers. My hopes fell at the sight of the caller.

It was him. My partner. Dead three days prior. Dead in my arms, his final kiss burned eternally in my memory. His number was calling me.

I showed my friend. The friend that he had practically adopted as his daughter. His padawan. She looked at it sadly as it rung.

"It's a trap," she whispered. "He's gone."

"I know," I whispered, eyes welling, "but I want it so badly to be real"

I watched it blinking away, begging to be answered, watching my last call I would ever receive from that number. From him. My heart broke as I pushed the button to end call. I held the device in my hands for a moment, then crushed it under the heel of my boot. No more calls. Not ever.

"I uh... I have an idea. Of what I'm going to do," she said. "I'm going to go to—"

"No," I said quietly, "don't tell me."

She sighed. I looked up at her.

"This way, if one of us gets caught, we can't sell out the other. It's for the good of both of us"

"Then I guess this is the end," she said.

"I guess so," I replied. I didn't want it to be. Honestly, I was scared to go alone. I had no future, I had to let go of the past. I was no one. An empty shell to be rewritten. But I knew it had to be done.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, we said our last goodbyes. We stood, embraced for the final time, then extinguished the fire. We shook hands, and each went to our own ships. We didn't look back.

We never met again after that. Honestly, I'm glad that's the way it went. I started a new life as a farmer in a remote community. I hid my ship and hid myself. I got a new name, new identity, a new destiny. Then I began to wait for a time that I wasn't even sure was coming. A time where I would fight for freedom once again.

I hope she enjoyed her life.

And that's the story of how everything I knew and loved was gone forever. How I lost the world and lost my hope. How my life went to hell, then back again, and I have nothing to show for it but shattered dreams and the life of a recluse hermit. There's nothing left to do now but wait. I wait. I watch. I protect.

I wait for a new hope to emerge.


End file.
